This film just popped up on TVE quite unexpectedly. Welles' last film, an experimental documentary about an art forger and his hoaxer biographer, dropping in on Howard Hughes and Pablo Picasso. Interesting stories, makes me want to read about the shit they were digging into in 70s gossip pages. Good film too, and plenty of quoteables from the big man who wanders iconically through his film puffing a cheroot and wearing a black hat and cape. As George Costanza once said 'Who wears a cape?' Orson.
I took this off the Imdb site...
Our works in stone, in paint, in print, are spared, some of them, for a few decades or a millennium or two, but everything must finally fall in war, or wear away into the ultimate and universal ash - the triumphs, the frauds, the treasures and the fakes. A fact of life: we're going to die. "Be of good heart," cry the dead artists out of the living past. "Our songs will all be silenced, but what of it? Go on singing." Maybe a man's name doesn't matter all that much.
Stating the obvious, but its nice to hear it said somewhere more permanent than the air. And us bloggers, now - aren't we the ultimate in man's disposable efforts to be permanent?